All My Heroes and Their Demons
by barefoot friar
Summary: Years after the war's end, James is called away to investigate strange happenings surrounding disappearances in New York. What he finds entangles him and a one-time friend in a deadly plot against the fledgling government... S/J
1. Chapter 1

**Liberty's Kids: All My Heroes and their Demons**

Author's Notes: _woah, it's been a while since I've written for LK. I'm still musing over what should happen at the end of Save the Last Dance, so for now, I'm writing this. This one'll be more mature, darker and have a longer plot than the other two. It also has some supernatural elements to it._

_Just to note, I'm fudging the details a bit with the character's ages. I did the math and didn't like James's age at the point of 'We The People", thus, he's only 23 in this story, which takes place two years after he moves off to work on his own newspaper._

Anyways, hope ya'll enjoy.

**Chapter One: Promise**

_**" **I know I'm supposed to step away  
and yet I stay, to keep a watchful eye  
on all my heroes,  
and all their demons..."_

Bethany Lawrence stood aside as her guide knocked on the door. Three loud knocks, just to make sure the occupant would hear. Then the man turned to her. " You must be Beth."

" Yes."

" He speaks of you often," said the man. Beth looked him over again. He was more of a kid, really. Red haired and obviously new to the city. She could tell by his timid glances, and rural way of dressing.

" Hopefully not _too _often," she teased.

The kid chuckled loudly. " He never shuts up about you. He talks more of you than what's happening in Congress."

Before Beth could comment on how natural that was, the door opened, and a man peeked his head out. " What, John? It's late." Then his eyes flicked over to Beth. " W-what are you doing here?"

" Couldn't stay away. You know that."

There was an icy silence. John shuffled his shoes together for a moment, then backed away. " Well, there you go, miss. Got to and, uh... clean the press. You know how it is," he said with a forced laugh. " Ink and all."

As the boy turned and quickly trotted off, Beth locked gazes with the man's eyes. He was half-dressed, his shirt hanging open and hair untied. He didn't look as though he'd shaved in a days. Beth stepped forward. " Oh James, is this what you look like when I'm not around to take care of you?"

" Beth, it's _late_."

She knew what he suggested by those words, but now, she didn't care. She leaned forward slightly, a serious expression on her face. " Lovers know not the time of day."

The words lingered in the air for a moment, then he laughed loud. " Who wrote that?"

" I did."

" You're beautiful," he whispered. " Even your _words_." His blue eyes searched the hallway. " You... can come in for a moment, I guess."

She puffed her chest up and slipped past him. " I had to come late. The girls say you're leaving."

" The girls, huh? I hate that they know so much." He rubbed the back of his head and sighed. " I was going to tell you tomorrow. That way you wouldn't be able to talk me out of it." He watched as she perched herself on the foot of his bed, and shut the door slowly. " But I won't let you change my mind. This is the biggest story he's given me in a while."

Beth crinkled her nose in annoyance. " Ugh. Peterson should give you better stories more often. It's not fair."

James shrugged. " I work for his paper, Beth. I take what I get. I learned a long time ago that fighting your boss for better stories..." he closed his eyes, and Beth could tell he was recalling him. James often thought about Dr. Franklin with closed eyes, as if with reverence and respect. " Bothering your boss for work can get on their nerves. And Mr. Peterson isn't overly fond of me – I try to stay on his good side."

She shrugged, surrendering her argument. " So where are you going?" She moved aside as he came to sit beside her. " Somewhere awful?"

" New York. Someplace up in New York. There's this rumor going around that people are disappearing."

With a concerned frown, she placed a hand across his shoulder. " Sounds strange. You'll be safe, right?"

" Well, that's the thing. So far, the missing people are those that served in the army." He turned to her and squeezed her hand. " So no danger. Don't fret. Besides..." He nodded towards his desk. " I got a letter from an old friend. I'm hoping I could always catch up with her, if I need anything. I won't be alone."

_Her?_ " You mean that girl you used to write to all the time? Sarah, right?" James nodded, and her frown deepened. " I thought you two had a falling-out."

" We did," he mumbled, " but apparently, she wants to see me. I don't know why but, it's always welcome news, to hear that someone you cared about is doing well." James leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. " If you're worried about me running off and never coming back, don't fear. Sarah's like a sister to me, and I love you."

Blushing, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. " ... Very well. Go save the world. I can't wait till you leave – that way you'll come back even quicker." She gave him a small peck on his lips and rose, moving towards the door.

" ... Beth?" James stood, quickly moving past her to the door. " Stay."

" Pardon?"

" _Stay_." He laughed at her shocked expression. " You've stayed over before. I just want to... make sure you know that I love you."

" No one else was here that time," she hissed. " I would rather see you in the morning." She patted at the stubble on his face. " Clean-shaved, please."

It seemed as though he was struggling with his desire to keep her there, but in the end, he relented. " Fine. I'll see you tomorrow, then, and when I come back, and after that, everyday for the rest of my life." He released her, and she turned to leave.

But before she got out the door, she heard him whisper, " I promise."

Notes: _Okay, I know it doesn't sounds Sarah-James right now. It will, pinky promise. Short chapter, sorry for that. It would have been longer but I doubted people wanted to hear more about Beth cx Review now please?_


	2. Woods

Author's notes: thanks for the reviews, guys! I'm putting some Sarah in this chapter as she won't be coming into the actual story until about chap 4.

**Chapter Two: Woods  
**

" Dear James,

I told father of your words at Dr. Franklin's funeral; he seemed very impressed. As was I, for I didn't know you had such eloquence in you. It certainly carried a different tone than your articles. Thank you, by the way, for sending your papers. It makes me feel close to you, though you are far away. It makes me wish Henri would write more often – and clearer, too. Please do not tell him I wrote that. He is so proud of his new-found penmanship."

James pressed his fingers against the smooth paper. Just brushing his skin against it – it was a passport to all those memories, to days of adventure, now as far away as old fabled wives-tales.

" I remain always, yours truly,

Sarah"

His eyes lingered on her "S", a large and flourished mark, flowing and soft like feather plume. Sarah... he would be seeing her again, and soon. The thought brought a smile to his lips – would they argue? It seemed inevitable. Those memories of their feuds were fresh, even after the years.

He refolded the old letter and placed it back in his pant pocket. He had kept this one, had not thrown it away like the others, perhaps as to keep some sort of link to his younger days, to that boy in the print shop. Impulsive, adventurous and stubborn. The boy who had befriended Sarah Phillips, who had denied his love for her, had stayed awake at night thinking of her despite himself, of how she would feel under his touch, and then praying forgiveness for such dark thoughts.

He was still impulsive, though the wisdom of age and the threat of being fired had taught him to hold his tongue. He was strong-limbed, but still clumsy, with the same wide blue eyes and thirst for fun.

But what of Sarah? Could she have changed? He had the horrifying thought of her as a "proper lady", as Mrs. Radcliff (though much younger and more beautiful), serving him tea and chattering away nonsense of gossip and everyday concerns. It didn't fit – they had chatted on trivial things many times before, but he found he couldn't recall any of those conversations. The only ones that stood out in his mind were centered around the war. Bold in his memory was the day she came back from England, of how she embraced him and his whole body dove away from him -

It wasn't right to think remember such things, he knew. Sarah was his friend, and she always had been. And even if her intentions for wanting to meet him were less than innocent (a small part of him hoped so desperately), he would have to inform her that he was engaged to be married (or close enough to it) and force himself to not wonder about those things of long ago.

The carriage had come to a stop. He frowned and shouted out to the driver, " Something wrong?"

" The woods," replied the man. He was a stranger to James still, even though they had ridden together for nearly an hour. Just a man hired to carry him to the site of the strange disappearances. James felt a shudder – the woods? Was there something there...?

When he had heard the reports, his mind immediately filled with all sorts of fanciful things. Bethany had told him of nymphs and sylphs that lured men with their beauty, into shadowed trees, where they would take them hostage for ages. He had dreamed night after night of all sorts of possibilities – English kidnappers? Ghosts of slain Redcoats? He sure hoped it would be something interesting.

But now, his heart pounded. " What about the woods?"

" Not going in. I'm turning back." James sniffed hard in disdain, but the man continued, " All those soldiers going mssin' in there. Not even and angel of God Himself could make me set foot through that place – I served for most of the war. Not goin' in."

James felt an incredible rush of fear through his body. He had merely written about the war... he wouldn't be in danger, right? The fear trickled around his veins, bringing him a sudden sense of pure joy. He'd go in, regardless of the danger. Who was he kidding, being afraid? He loved danger. Even being frightened brought a touch of enjoyment. He hadn't _lived _in so long – merely written. He'd write and sit at a desk and take notes and... it was driving him _mad_, the want to do _something_.

" Fine, fine. Come back in a few hours, around five? I'll be here waiting." He jumped from the cart and as soon as he did, the man turned the horse around and without a good-bye or good-luck he and the carriage were off down the dusty road. James rolled his eyes and turned back to the forest. According to what people had said, the men didn't have to go far to get lost – a group had been chopping wood near the fringes, and found one of their own missing. There was no sign he had traveled in too far, yet there were no traces, save for his abandoned equipment.

James grinned broadly. What a story! He shouldered his pack and without realizing it fully, touched the letter inside his pocket. Then with head held high, he tramped off through the underbrush. He'd take a quick look around, then be out in time to question anyone who came through the road, and those in the nearby village.

The forest didn't look any different than those he'd been in before. Not even a sense in the air – the kind of thing that warned one to go back. Just sunlight, leaves and bugs. He swatted at a bee investigating his bright yellow hair, and the insect buzzed off towards the heart of the forest. He took it as a sign, and followed.

The further he went into the tree coverage, the more he felt his face fall. Nothing. No ghosts, no harpies, nothing of interest. He was near a mile in when he stopped and shrugged. The road nearby would lead the way out – he'd just have to head east until he reached it. Feeling entirely tricked by the rumors, he turned.

There was a tug on his foot, and he yelped as he fell. He hit the ground hard, his hand reaching out as he tumbled and scraping against the rough bark of a tree. He gasped at the pain and scrambled to a sitting position, rubbing his chest and looking at the palm of his hand. There were three deep scratches across it, bleeding slightly. With a curse he rubbed the blood off on his white shirt, then cursed again. Not only was this a total waste of time, but now he'd fallen and felt completely foolish.

But as he scrambled up, something caught his eye. A thin line was tied between the trees – he must have caught on it, and it had tripped him. He frowned deeper as he leaned in to investigate. It was golden-colored, taut, and led deeper into the woods, away from the road. He gently pulled on it – it was so tight that nothing happened. He rubbed his chin reflectively.

Then he felt it – the feeling that he was being watched. He quickly stood and turned -

BAM!

The blow struck him so quickly that he fell back again, his sight blotting with ink-spots. Before he could turn and fight back, it came again, and he crumpled down to the dirt, eyes closing.


End file.
